Forbidden
by primitiveLOGIC
Summary: The School for Good and Evil is no more; in it's place, a school for murderers and cheaters. With a war waging between the anybody not in Gavaldon and everybody in Gavaldon, the little, once humble town is in ruins. The Elders are forced to draft the few people left into the war, no matter if they'll even make it to their military base. Sophie and Agatha are torn apart once again.


Sophie had never been a strong girl. She was sweet, feisty, fierce, and as pig-headed as anyone could ever be, but she wasn't strong. So when Sophie got the letter telling her that she had been drafted into the war and was to leave by the next Sunday, her home was dripping with tension. It was if the air around them was crying.

Agatha, who was as pig-headed as Sophie was, ignored her. She didn't speak to Sophie, she didn't try to contact her for the rest of the week. So Sophie was left alone, Monday until Doomsday, waiting for the Devil to take her from her bed, snatch her away to never come back, because they never did come back. Agatha's father hadn't. Agatha's mother hadn't. Sophie's mother hadn't. And the battle between Readers and Princesses/Princes continued. It was a terrifying thing, and very, very real. The Readers, the Head Elder at the time had said, never get any role in any story. Yet, without the Readers, the Princesses and Princes wouldn't have any purpose. They're selfish- prats who think they're all that, neglecting us and everyone around us.

Hearing this, the first house was burnt.

Instead of lovingly reading the painted words, fingering the beautifully illustrated pages, sniffing the leather of the book because it smelled like something magical, all the storybooks were burnt, and everyone hid inside their homes hoping to be forgotten; lest they get drafted into the war. Just last week, they'd drafted an old woman into the war, who died before she even made it to the barracks. They replaced her with a nine-year-old child who'd been stuffed into a chest for nine years of her life before finally being found out by the Elders.

It was only in the last hour that Sophie heard the familiar quiet tapping on her window. She quickly unbolted it, her fingers quick and nimble from practice and anticipation. Her green eyes met glistening brown ones.

Agatha crept through the broken window and into Sophie's room. They both wordlessly plopped onto the dusty, white, canopy bed, once a place where they might might just dream and think about all the things that they could accomplish, just the two of them. Instead, here they were, spending Sophie's last hour of real life on a bed full of horror. Sophie felt Agatha's body beside her, tense and cold.

"So you're really going." Agatha said quietly, her voice cracking. It wasn't a question. Sophie turned to her to see Agatha pale, thin lips bleeding onto her snow white skin. Agatha felt a warm hand on her cold chin, which quietly wiped off the red so that they could see the white again. Agatha turned to Sophie, and their eyes met, as if they were memorizing every bit of each other. In fact, that was exactly what they were doing. Forgetting one another would be their true demise.

"I'll miss you," Sophie replied softly. The words 'when I die' went unsaid.

"Me too," replied Agatha, feeling more like a ghost than she looked. There were too many things to be said, so instead, Sophie leaned forward to plant a kiss on Agatha's frigid lips. It would be their last one. Both closed their eyes, and felt last year's snow on their eyelashes, messing Sophie's hair, and getting down Agatha's collar while they both shared their first kiss.

Sophie felt cool fingers make contact with the skin between her collarbone, before a full hand appeared to push her away. Sophie took Agatha's icy hand into hers and met Agatha's big eyes again.

"I can hear the Elders," Agatha whispered.

"I'm not leaving."

"They'll kill you."

"Leave me as bait, you mean."

"I would take that bait," Agatha quipped, under her breath. Sophie laughed, her laugh sounding like a higher, prettier version of the school bell, when it used to ring. The two sat up, hearing several footsteps drawing near. The door swung open with a loud bang, and sure enough, the Elders appeared.

"Praeter, Sophie. Gavaldon." boomed the tallest and Head Elder.

"Yes, sir," Sophie said, because it was what you were meant to say, if you wanted to avoid being flogged. The Head Elder eyed Agatha, who sat innocuously beside the golden haired girl.

"Silvis, Agatha. What is your business here?"

"Not business, certainly. Definitely pleasure," Agatha cracked. The Elders stepped forward, their hands clutched around their whips. Sophie's lover flinched. Sophie thought of the scars on the ghost-girl's back, far more than a few. She wasn't sure if Agatha qualified as stupid or brave.

"Visiting, I am unarmed," Agatha said, quickly replacing her aforementioned words.

"Stand," commanded the Second in Command, who took the most pleasure in flogging the young girl. She rose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She bit her lip, and soon felt blood dripping down her lips again as they patted her down. She might have been pissed a few months ago, but she had tried to stab them a few times, so it was best not to make the Elders any more angry than they already were. It was a good thing Gavaldon didn't have a jail.

"If Sophie comes back and I find you in her room, on her bed again, I will not hesitate to kill you." hissed the Elder, "You know what the town thinks of you two- you're dykes, and the town doesn't accept those."

Agatha skin became two shades whiter, while Sophie's turned a little bit green, matching her eyes when she overheard the cruel words.

Satisfied, the Elders turned back to Sophie. "Praeter."

Sophie nodded in return, but hardly had any time to do so, her arm being roughly grabbed from her as they hauled her out of her room and into the streets, not bothering to check if they hadn't hit her head on a few walls. Sophie didn't even bother to fight as they lugged and paraded her around town and into the cart, where nine other drafted soldiers waited. A few kicks, yells, and painful sounding cracks, and Sophie was in the Devil's hands.

* * *

Agatha sat alone in Sophie's room. It was surreal, being in a place that she shouldn't be. What was even more surreal, was the shadow she saw- the shadow that shouldn't be there. What was the most surreal, was that shadow grabbing her waist, and hauling her out of the room while she began to scream, struggling against the faceless, body-less being, hauled high in the air as the people around her began to shout. Agatha would have done the same, if only she could breathe. The talons of this being were terrible, scratching her stomach, digging into her skin like nails, firmly deciding that Agatha shouldn't have the right to breathe, so she heaved and huffed, trying to take in air that wasn't allowed, only to be thrown over the wall of thorns, and land in a puddle of mud.

That was when a bird made of only bones came to hoist her up, dripping and caked with mud while she heaved for air once again- sailing through air, before being dropped into dark clouds, landing once again in mud.

Before she could even begin to process how just five minutes ago, she was in Sophie's bedroom, wishing her lover could come back, to being here, brown mud covering her black pants and dress shirt, as well as her boxy, short, greasy hair, a prissy voice sounded. "This is your Training Ground Pass."

Agatha looked up to see a ravishing girl with her lips pursed, holding out what looked like a carnival ticket.

"Where am I?" Agatha demanded instead.

The girl narrowed her eyes and played at the same game, replying with raised eyebrows, "My name is Beatrix. Yours?"

"Where am I?" Agatha repeated. Beatrix rolled her eyes.

"The School for Morality."

"Is morality what you call kidnapping?"

"No, I believe it's what your town calls drafting."

* * *

Drafting had once been something that was laughed at. It was something that simply wouldn't happen. And then a house blew up. At first, nearly everyone was in the war, fighting back against the selfish royals, the ones who had it all. But as fewer and fewer people began to come back, fewer and fewer people wanted to go in. Soon, it was clear what was going to happen. Gavaldon was going to fall.

That was when the drafting started. First, it was one person every week, and a tax to everyone who wasn't in the war. Then, it was two people and ridicule. Soon, five people and flogging, and finally, ten people with all of the above. Still, nobody joined, because nobody came back. What was once the fabled School for Good and Evil, a place of beauty, belonging, and wonder, became a place of hatred, until people started to see the error in their ways. That the whole war was based on some snide comment by some should-have-been-dead man. But it was too late for revolutions.

That was when people started realizing that the Elders weren't as wise as they thought; realized that they were cruel, twisted people, who reigned over them like a looming storm cloud, there only to rain on your parade.

The School for Good and Evil was a place of the past, because flyers came out to Gavaldon, stating that anyone who truly wished to join them, the School of Morality, could do so by a simple uttering of words at the edge of the thorn wall. Half the town left that night.

From then on, anyone who stood anywhere near the thorn wall was executed.

* * *

Sophie had hardly been in the carriage for a few moments before hearing a screech, a screech that sounded eerily familiar. She lurched up from the hay originally meant for horses to peek outside of the tiny window. There was a dark shadow over the town, with a hand, hoisting up a girl in black with short hair.

Shit.

"Agatha!" Sophie screamed, abruptly waking a middle aged man from his stupor, angering a young woman, and thoroughly pissing off a man with graying hairs.

"Shut up!" he gruffly hissed at her, but Sophie was more worried what the hell her girlfriend was doing being held up in the air by a shadow. And then she was gone. Then Sophie hit her nose on the wooden wall because the horses carrying the supposed-to-be horse transporter had stopped walking, and so, she went flying backwards, hitting her head on the ground, landing in between all nine angry passengers.

A guard came in, face covered but clearly angry. "Who screamed?"

No one answered. The guard whipped the floor, making everyone yelp. In lower, sickly, baritone, he asked again, "Who screamed?"

The passengers meekly pointed to Sophie, who looked at the guard with wide eyes. He lunged forward, unzipping the back of her pale pink dress to reach her skin, his whip quickly cracking against her skin, her hands on the walls, nails digging into the wood as she let out too many gasps of pain; feeling gashes being made on her back, knowing they'd be infected in a few days. Her eyes bulged wide, but he was done soon, he left without a word in an air of importance. She fell on the ground, her dress still to her waist. Though it had only lasted a minute or two, it felt more like centuries. A punishment for worry, a scream about the shadow hoisting her soulmate in the air before disappearing without a trace.

So this was what she got for love.

* * *

Agatha was pushed into the School for Morality, noting that the huge castle had a huge joint section between the two original castles being built. She also noted the big, rustic letters stating the school's name in the name, gray, falling apart, and old. Just like everything else in Agatha's life.

When she actually entered the room, she also noted the three staircases, each with one word carved into it, whatever had been written underneath broken away. Equity, Value, and Honesty were scrawled on the banisters, the discarded golden letters fallen on the gray floor, because everything in the castle was gray. Without another introduction, Beatrix and two cronies pushed Agatha up Value, reaching a door seemingly picked at random, before finally shoving Agatha into her new room. She tripped, nearly falling on her face due to the hard shove.

Beatrix was nearly spitting at her, throwing a crippled and sad-looking piece of paper to the floor. Then, she handed Agatha a gray and black uniform, stating the obvious, which, judging by Beatrix's tone, was obviously the most exciting thing in the world. "This is your uniform."

Then, she and her squad left, slamming the door on their way. First, Agatha changed into the uniform, not caring to check if anyone was in the room.

The outfit wasn't much different from Gavaldon's standard dress-code. It was a gray, long-sleeve blouse made of satin with buttons up the front. She slipped it on, shredding her mud coated one before shredding her mud caked, originally black pants as well. As she clumsily stuck her feet into the leg-holes of the black pants, she realized that this pair of pants were almost exactly the same as her now ruined ones, just more comfortable and less tight. She tucked her shirt into her pants and slid on the black vest before eyeing the impractical shoes: high black platform heels. Weren't they in a war?

"The girls couldn't give up their heels, especially if they had to wear black." said a small, sweet voice, awkwardly announcing her presence. Agatha turned to see a tall girl, 'Kiko Syreni' sewn onto the collar of her shirt. Agatha glanced down at her own collar to see 'Agatha Silvis' neatly sewn onto her own collar in a bright orange.

"Happened to all of us, made us confused too." Kiko giggled, noting Agatha's surprise.

"So it's new?" Agatha asked.

"Well, as new as the School of Morality is," Kiko replied quietly. "Traded in the blue, pink, and black uniforms for all gray, since we couldn't decide on a better color."

"At least you guys don't have berets."

"You guys have berets?"

"Only the ones in the military. It's a real wonder why most of us come back dead; I would want to escape those hats too." Agatha said. Kiko giggled. "Or maybe it's because the people on the other side of the wall always cheat."

Agatha quirked a smile, feeling her neck burn a little scarlet. _You already have a girlfriend_ , Agatha thought sharply to herself. _Don't fall for every girl you meet._

But then, the greasy haired freak locked eyes with the small timid-looking girl again and sooner than Agatha would like to admit, their eyes didn't end up being the only thing locking.

* * *

Sophie hadn't been having the best time. Though the ride was short, nine other people had already seen her breasts and her back was already filled with lovely new scars. The Devil wasn't playing around, that was for sure. Sophie had spent too much time wishing to just be some girl who cooked for her lovely wife, scrubbing floors and taking care of children. Husband, she supposed, if she didn't want to be executed. She hummed to herself, before quietly shutting up, not wishing to be whipped again. How Agatha survived, she really wasn't sure.

So Sophie trailed out of the carriage, feeling very out of place with her nice, pink dress, zip up in the back, sweetheart cut in the front. Everyone was gloom and doom, but she had long ago decided to keep being a light instead of a wet blanket.

But as soon as she set eyes on the young ghostly, pale boy with ghostly, pale hair, with ghostly, pale eyes waiting for them at the gates of the military base, she suddenly felt that maybe the Devil wasn't all that bad after all.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading and please remember to review ^^ I always love reading what you all have to say! Also big thanks to cynicaltea who edited this piece for me. I look forward to adding new installments to this series, I really love the books. This is by far, not the first time I've ventured into this fandom ;) I've missed writing for it!**


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